Dust
by BlackbAngeL
Summary: Ashes... such a pretty word for such an ugly thing... Future fic, Angsty, B/A


**Disclaimer:** You should know it by now, really... I don't own anything here. Just the plot. Not that there's actually one to begin with, mind you.

**Title:** Dust

**Author:** Oceanee (previously known as BlackbAngeL)

**Summary: **None, really. Just know that it's post NFA, an angsty future fic about B/A.

**Note: **Okay, before you start reading, let me offer my deepest apologies. This has been very, very hard to write, but I did it as a desperate attempt to get back into the swing of things, seeing as I've been away from the fandom, and from fanfiction in general, for so long. And given that writing this has been like pulling teeth all along, I'm not sure it's actually worth anything more than a raised eyebrow and a "what the hell?!"

I know I have a lot of stories to update, and that I'm a very very bad author for keeping those who were reading waiting, but I promise I'm trying! Don't be too harsh please...

**Dedication: T**o Rebecca, my favorite TH fan in the whole wide world. She, ever the genius, answered my plea for a challenge, anything to make me write. She asked for a future fic, angsty and B/A, with a particular line in it, and this is the response to her request. I hope you like it, hun!

**Warning:** The beginning is about Buffy's inner thoughts, so, it's more "stream of consciousness" than anything else, bound to be random and strange at times. Oh, and I should probably warn you of a character's death.

o o o o o o o

_**Buffy's POV**_

Ashes to ashes.

For some reason, that's the first thing that comes to your mind when you finally dare opening your eyes. And within half a second, the mere realization of what you just thought makes you let out a snort, lost as you are, halfway between painful laughter and bitter tears.

Hey, a snort. It's a step, isn't it? Anytime now you'll dissolve into a fit of giggles, you just know it.

Yeah, sure...

"Buffy..."

What is it with you and ashes anyway? Sometimes you feel like it's all you do, walk through it, dust it away from your clothes, your life, your thoughts... Maybe that's what the world is made of. Maybe they too are just ashes, and you only send them back to their natural state with a swift kick and a stake through the heart.

Come to think of it, where the Hell does that word even come from?Ashes? Rather poetic, if you do say so yourself, but honestly, who in their right mind would ever think of creating such a word for such a thing? Something so insignificant it's almost more of a concept than real matter. Volatile, light... all it takes is a soft blow to make it but a memory.

A left-over. That's what it is. And 'ash' is too pretty a sound for such a useless thing.

That's silly, really. Why does everything that once was solid and warm, colorful and bright, have to turn into something so... plain? Whether it's a building, food, wood, an animal or a person... all there's left in the end is dust. The bigger it was, the more dust there is, simple as that.

And you're standing in front of one of the biggest piles of soon-to-be dust you've ever seen in your life. Oh, there's a very logical reason to that, but you can't quite grasp it at the moment.

Though, something tells you it probably has to do with that big explosion a few minutes ago.

"Buffy?"

There's that voice again... Can't they forget you for a second? You are having a moment with yourself here.

"Buffy?"

The intruding sound finally sinks into your brain, awakening every cell in there, connecting nerve endings and flashing light beneath your eyelids...

Bringing you back to life.

There's pain somewhere at the back of your head, and this is how you know that you're truly awake, this time. Heat surrounds you, the loud sputtering of a thousand flames drowning your eardrums in a morbid whisper.

Surprisingly enough (or not), contrary to what you thought, you're not standing. And you won't be for some time. Maybe it's the warm blood coursing down your right leg that clues you in on that little problem. You sit up with a hiss, trying to see through the fog that's surrounding you.

"Hey there, sleepyhead..."

Oh, so the voice was real?

You whip your head around, immediately regretting it when something snaps between your neck and shoulder blade, sending a rush of white hot pain right to the part of your brain that would rather have been left alone at the moment, thank you very much.

"Ouch," you finally let out through your clenched teeth. You can still talk. Yay.

"That must have been painful."

"You have no idea..." and as you speak this time, you come to the realization that you know that voice. Very well actually.

You would know it anywhere, for it haunted your dreams for many years, a death or two ago.

At the very moment that thought makes itself known, your eyes get accustomed to the dim light the fire provides, only to meet the deep and thoughtful gaze of the man who, for a moment there, you never thought you'd ever get to see again.

And it all comes back to you.

_Flashback_

"_Buffy, you can't go down there, it could explode again any minute now!" your brunette counterpart remarks, a pained look on her face as you rush past her to reach the door to your house._

"_I can handle it," you vaguely say, too intent on climbing those familiar steps, and maybe save the only thing you have left. It can't happen again, not after everything, not now that you are finally happy..._

_Not after you lost everyone else._

"_It's too late, Buff!" she tells you, and at that very moment, you decide that you hate her, and will for the rest of your days, until your last breath or hers. _

_Because, deep inside, you know she's right. She very often is, and that habit of hers really gets on your already fragile nerves. _

_Funny how right now, 'faith' is all you have, in every sense of the word._

_You shove her to the side, shutting your mind on anything she might have to say, and walk towards the flames. It wasn't supposed to happen. Was it the gas? The stove you forgot to turn off? Some demons wanting revenge on the people who spent years trying to exterminate their kind?_

_All you know is that you were walking down your porch to greet your sister slayer, albeit reluctantly, and the next thing you knew there was fire, screams and fire alarms going off everywhere, from inside, outside, all around you... _

_You kick the door open... and the world goes black._

_End of flashback. _

"Fate is a bitch, uh?" he says in that deep and quiet voice of his, reaching out a hand to massage your shoulder, trying to ease off your pain.

"Tell me about it..."

"You know what just happened right?"

And this is when you realize. You stare at him, taking everything in, his face, the softness of his hands as their caress your cheek, the fullness of his lips as they curve into a sad and bittersweet smile, the slight frown marring his forehead as he stares back at you, running his fingers through your messy and ruined blond locks... you can feel pain deep into your stomach, but you know no physical wound caused it.

"Don't cry..." he whispers, over and over as he pulls you a little closer, "_don't cry_..._you'll be alright_."

You try to listen, and understand, but for a moment the words sound meaningless, forgettable and ephemeral as they are, insignificant in the face of your distress. You don't want words to be the last thing you share with him, you'd rather enjoy silence, just for a minute, and lose yourself in everything he can never voice out because it's so deep, so complex that you can never spell it out clearly. After all, love was never meant to be explained out loud, was it? It's only supposed to be felt.

You let your lips quiver, feeling the hot tears travel down your cheeks, soaking his fingers as they linger there.

"It had to happen that way. Price I have to pay, I guess..."

His soft brown eyes don't leave your tearful ones, as he tries to make you understand that he's fine with the situation. It doesn't matter that he has to go, because he knows, somehow, that it'll never be over. That you'll meet again, whether it's in another life, or in the peace he _knows _awaits him right now because losing you, losing the happiness you have found together has to be the last thing he has to sacrifice to obtain the forgiveness he's so desperately coveted for decades.

As the many implications of his presence at that moment, of his words, hit you, you decide it's time to stop trying to think things through. You launch yourself at him, as much as you can with the many wounds scarring your limbs, and press your lips to his as he becomes more and more transparent, slowly dissolving into thin air.

So, this is how farewell feels? And here you thought you already knew all there was to know about it. Especially with him.

He pulls back slightly and leans his forehead against yours, the last bit of physical tenderness he can indulge in.

"You'll be alright," he says, his mouth an inch away from yours, and this time the words break through the wall around your consciousness, with all their meaning and all the hope they hold.

Is this why he braved the laws of nature and came back to you for that moment? To give you the first and most needed push towards forgiveness and peace? Maybe.

You'll hold onto that.

Faith's voice rings out from somewhere behind you, and you feel thin but unbelievably strong arms lift you up, carrying you away from the heat as what's left of the building crumbles and, in a last painful howl, collapses onto itself, finally surrendering to the demanding pressure of gravity, burying everything it holds inside between its destroyed walls.

Ashes to ashes.

Dust to dust.

Seems fitting after all.

_The End_

o o o o o o o

Wow... I can't believe I actually did it. I know it's not very good, what with the sappy and weird ending, and I was thinking of not posting it, but I'm afraid Rebecca will come seek me out with some heavy weapon if I don't. So, here goes, please tell me what you think!


End file.
